Arthur left Leon, Elyan, and the other knights to stand guard outside the tomb while Princess Mithian led him and Percival to where her injured father was hidden. Mithian's aged serving woman, Hilda, followed them into the dark passages of the cavernous tomb. It was colder than it had been in the sunlit forest outside but adrenaline kept him warm. They were so close.

The princess glanced back at Arthur. He felt a twinge of misgiving at her expression but she merely said, "The burial chamber lies just ahead, at the end of that tunnel."

Arthur took the lead, barely controlling the thrill of triumph that soon, very soon, they would have King Rodor safely in their custody. Then it was a short journey back to Camelot and they could force that vindictive King Odin from Nemeth. Odin was a plague on the land, it would be sweet revenge to snatch the injured Rodor from under Odin's nose, then force him to relinquish the kingdom he had stolen.

It was only a few steps until they entered a large chamber with a stone crypt in its centre.

Arthur looked around in consternation at the empty room. "I don't understand, where's your father?"

"He's not here," the princess whispered.

Arthur's misgivings came back in full force but he did not allow his anger or his fear to colour his tone. "Then where is he?"

Mithian's expression was guilt-ridden. "Arthur, I …"

The sound of several armed men approaching from every direction filled the crypt. Arthur drew his sword, his eyes scanning every entrance to the burial chamber, his mind running through and discarding each possible escape route. There was none. A score of Odin's men filed in through the entrances in all four corners of the chamber.

Arthur and Percival engaged the enemy soldiers, holding their own for several minutes until they were overpowered by sheer numbers. By the time both men had been disarmed and were being forcibly held by several of Odin's men, they had given a good account of themselves. But it had not been enough to escape the clever trap.

Percival was pinned to the crypt, his arms wrenched behind his back.

Forced to his knees, helpless to break free of the three men holding him, Arthur turned his fury on the princess who had led them into the ambush. "What wrong have I done you?"

Mithian only shook her head in response, unable to speak, her eyes anguished. She ran to embrace her grey-haired father who had been turned loose by his captors. Apparently he had served his purpose to Odin as assurance of Mithian's cooperation.

"Arthur Pendragon at last."

Winded from the exertion of the fight, Arthur turned his head toward King Odin's vitriolic voice.

"I have waited many years for this moment. You killed my son. You took what was most precious from me and now you will pay the forfeit."

The depth of his hatred was evident both in his voice and his eyes.

"And not a moment too soon," cackled Hilda as she slowly moved her withered frame further into the chamber.

Arthur turned to stare at the grey-haired serving woman, puzzled to hear the venom in her tone.

"You are not alone in having waited for this moment, Odin." She smiled coldly. "Appearances can be deceiving, dear brother."

Finally Arthur realized the extent of the deception he had fallen for. He berated himself for his foolishness, his thirst for revenge against Odin, his arrogant dismissal of Guinevere's hesitancy and Merlin's funny feelings. Shaking his head at his own gullibility he said despairingly, "Morgana."

She laughed triumphantly.

Odin stepped forward, sword drawn. "And now you will pay the forfeit."

Arthur had to twist his neck to look up from the grasp Odin's men had on him. "My father's life, that wasn't enough?" he demanded.

"No." Odin's tone was hard.

Arthur dropped his head. "So be it." Then he looked up again at the other king. "But understand this, Odin, you kill me and you'll have all of Camelot to answer to."

"Camelot is nothing without its king," Odin scoffed.

If he could have had caught his breath, Arthur would have laughed aloud at the man's ignorance. "Then you don't know my knights. They will hunt you, and they will find you, and they will not rest until they're done."

Odin considered such a fate only briefly before he steeled his expression again. "I will deal with your knights soon enough, but now your time has come." He raised his sword.

Arthur bent his head, hoping the blow would be swift.

Without warning the ground shook, huge chunks of stone falling as the tomb disintegrated from the forces rocking it to and fro. Those who were standing were knocked off their feet.

Arthur jumped up when the hands holding him lost their grip. He wasted no time in divesting King Odin of his sword and landing a hard blow to his jaw. Arthur used the blade to strike at one of the soldiers before tossing the weapon to Percival who had shaken off his own captors. Arthur took down another of the enemies who was struggling to regain his feet and used the man's sword to fell another of Odin's men. He spun to see a blade raised high about to skewer him but Arthur could not bring his weapon around in time to parry the blow. He was about to raise an arm to take the force of the strike when the man crumpled to the ground, bleeding heavily from his stomach. Arthur's eyes widened in shock to see Merlin standing there, blade in hand.

"Merlin?" Arthur stood rooted to the spot. Somehow Merlin had recovered from the blow to the head he had suffered in the woods and was in the tomb when that incredibly fortuitous quake shook the burial chamber and saved Arthur's life. The implication of that coincidence was clear as was every other lucky accident that had worked in his favour for the last several years – Merlin was always nearby. Arthur's own words rang in his head, echoing like a bell tolling: there's something about you, Merlin, I can't quite put my finger on it, providing a counterpoint to what his father's spirit had tried to say: Merlin has … Merlin has magic … there's something about you, Merlin, I can't quite put my finger on it … Merlin has magic. Even in the heat of battle, surrounded by Odin and his men who were regrouping, Arthur could not move, could not say a word, until the sound of Merlin's voice cut through the din.

"Hurry, this way!"

Arthur ushered King Rodor and Princess Mithian, coughing in the billows of rock dust clouding the air, out of the quaking tomb into the forest.

Odin's pursuit was relentless. More of his soldiers joined those who had escaped from the tomb. They cut Arthur off from the handful of Camelot knights who had turned the tables on their captors with Gwaine's help and were engaged in a pitched battle with another troop of Odin's men.

With enemies behind as well as approaching on yet another front, Arthur led his party deeper into the woods. Finally he was forced to send Rodor and Mithian with only Percival as protection to follow the ridgeline while he and Merlin fled through the woods in the other direction, steps in front of Odin and his soldiers. He relished the chase and fight despite his danger, comfortable in a world he understood.

When he and Merlin were cornered, Arthur was glad to turn and face Odin even in the face of insurmountable odds: two of them against a dozen or more. When the arrogant fool called off his own men to duel Arthur in single combat, he was certain he would beat the other king with only a few sword thrusts. Then it was over and Arthur held his sword to Odin's neck, ready to repay vengeance with vengeance. Merlin's voice sliced into his thoughts. The familiar voice with its familiar wisdom that forced Arthur to take stock of what he was about to do and come up with a better way.

It was only after Odin had accepted his offer of a truce that Arthur remembered that that familiar companion had a secret, and wondered when his friend was going to tell him the truth finally.